


Therapy

by KoriMonster



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Consensual Incest, F/M, Heavy Emotional Fuckery, Incest, Pre-Canon, Pre-CoV, Therapy, kids Iris is a great therapist but not what we like to call a role-model, lots of examining the Twins' dynamic, unethical therapy practices, while an underpaid therapist hangs on for dear life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28233972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoriMonster/pseuds/KoriMonster
Summary: In the direct aftermath of fleeing Nekrotafeyo and settling on a new planet, the Twins find themselves struggling to break old habits. Namely, despite no longer living in isolation, they can't keep their hands off each other. Desperate, Troy reaches out to a therapist and drags Tyreen along. Iris Manx thinks she can help them, Troy is hopeful but scared, and Tyreen isn't sure she wants help.
Relationships: Troy Calypso/Tyreen Calypso
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10





	1. Intake

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda don't know where I'm going with this, but I love these two, I'm depressed, and I Do Not Control The Autism.

Troy had planned on speaking first. But, as usual, Tyreen couldn’t have that, and wasn’t even fully seated before she spoke.“What the fuck is therapy?” She asked, and Troy swallowed a groan. 

The therapist, a sharp-faced woman with pale hair and thick legs, started in her chair and stared at both of them. “Is that a question or a complaint?” She asked. Which was not the sort of response Troy had been expecting, but if his sister was startled, she didn’t show it. 

Instead, Tyreen opened her mouth and Troy wanted to sink into the floor. “I just don’t get what this is.” Tyreen’s voice was hard, and she crossed her arms over her chest with a scowl. “Like, I don’t want to take pills--” 

“I don’t medicate,” the therapist said flatly. “I’m not a psychiatrist; I have no power to prescribe.” She crossed her legs and set her paper pad aside. “And if you don’t want to be here, then I can’t offer you anything.” 

“No!” Troy blurted out. “We have to be here!” 

Tyreen countered immediately; she’d been itching for another fight. “No, we don’t, we can fix this without some fucking stranger judging us!” 

“Not judging you is a big part of my job,” the therapist interjected mildly, letting her chin rest on her hand. 

“Clearly we can’t, Tyreen!” Troy shouted. “It’s been months and we’re still...you know!” He gestured wildly to the empty space between them. 

Tyreen flushed and looked away. “It's just taking some time! It's gotta be like not biting your nails, right? We don’t need some doctor bitch--” 

Troy gaped at her. He couldn’t understand how she was this deep in denial, this terrified of asking for help. “No, no Tyreen!” He said, outrage and confusion coloring his words. “This is NOT like--” 

“Hi, hello, I’m still here.” They both jumped and looked back at her. She was watching them with arched brows, her mouth a flat line. “So, I like the communicating. What I don’t like is the yelling, and the fact that you can’t agree on even being here.” She pointed at Troy. “You. You’re the one I talked to on the phone.” 

“Yes, yes! I called because SHE won’t!” Troy snapped, turning away from Tyreen. He always had to be the reasonable one, he was fucking sick of it. 

“Yeah, uh-huh, I was wondering if that was you.” Her tone softened slightly as she continued. “You were pretty out of your skull when we spoke. Did you even get my name?” 

Troy blinked. “Uh. Yes?” He lied. He’d been mid anxiety attack on the phone, all of his effort focused on not screaming in frustration or hyperventilating. 

Behind her rectangular glasses, her hazel eyes flashed _bullshit_ and something inside Troy wanted to laugh. “Sure you did. In case you needed a reminder, I’m Iris Manx,” Iris ticked her eyes to Tyreen and said dryly, “And I am actually not a doctor.” 

“Not sure how you think you can help us if you aren’t even a doctor,” Tyreen mumbled. 

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Troy shouted and Tyreen rounded on him to take the bait. 

“No yelling,” Iris said, and continuing to shout was unthinkable in the wake of all that calm. “We do not yell in here, got it? You can swear, but we don’t shout.” To Tyreen, she said, “I’m not a doctor because I didn’t want to get a doctorate. But I still went to school for 7 years, and then spent another two years studying under someone who did, in fact, have a doctorate.” 

“She knows what she’s talking about, Ty,” Troy said, trying to keep his voice even. “Please, can you just try?” 

“Oh like this is going to be fucking easy!” Tyreen said. 

“I’m not saying it’s going to be!” 

“Therapy is hard,” Iris said. “If she thinks she can’t do it--” 

“Oh fuck you,” Tyreen snapped, and wrapped her arms around her knees. “You’re not gonna trick me, I’m not stupid!” 

Troy wanted to reach for her, hold her and kiss her hair until she stopped looking so distressed. But they were here to stop, so he didn’t. 

“Of course you’re not,” Iris said. Tyreen sniffled, and hid her face in her arms. Troy’s heart broke. “Okay. I’m glad you guys got some of that out. But let’s start over.” She propped her arms on her legs, and continued. “Siblings?” 

“...Yes, twins,” Troy said. The couch shifted and Tyreen was suddenly cuddling against his side. Troy caved and wrapped his arm around her. “We were attached,” he added. “And our parents were--” 

“They were fucking awful and that’s why we’re both fucking crazy and can’t function in normal fucking society,” Tyreen mumbled, burying her face in Troy’s side. 

“And she’s going to help us fix that,” Troy promised. “We can do this, Tyreen, we can figure out how to be normal.” 

Iris broke in gently. “I’m going to ask you guys some questions. Some of them are gonna feel invasive. But I’m not here to judge you. Just be honest with me, because we cannot make progress if you lie or hide things.” They both nodded, Tyreen not lifting her head just yet. “My very first question, and arguably the most important one: why are you here?” 

“We…” Troy looked down at Tyreen, who finally lifted her face to peek at him. Her eyes were red and wet and she looked miserable. He swallowed hard, wishing he could kiss her. “I--” 

Irish sighed, but not like she was annoyed. “I’m a sex therapist,” she said carefully. “Do you know that?” 

“Yes,” Troy said, his throat a little tight, and Tyreen nodded as well. 

Iris continued, “I treat sexual trauma, sexual dysfunction, and paraphilic disorders.” Tyreen started sob quietly, and Iris sighed again. Troy glanced at her; she looked like she was preparing herself. “You mentioned your parents…” Her voice was so gentle it made Troy’s stomach twist, and he felt his own anger rising to replace Tyreen’s. Part of him was furious, insulted that he was being spoken to like he was fragile. But he met Iris’ eyes and there was no pity there. Inhaling hard through his nose, he fought the fear down. Troy reminded himself that he was the one who wanted to come here. Besides, Tyreen had calmed a bit, and he shouldn’t upset her again. “I’m going to take a stab in the dark: this issue is related to incest?” 

There was that word, telegraphed a mile away but still, somehow, startling. It was Tyreen who answered this time; she pulled out of Troy’s hug and said, “Yeah, okay. Our parents locked us up underground our whole lives and we started fucking. Now we can’t stop. Happy?” 

“Nope. Not if you’re not.” Iris’ face was sympathetic but still not pitying. “This was consensual, between you two?” 

Tyreen exploded. “Fuck you! Troy never forced me, I wanted it, okay? I love him, he’s the only one I--” There were tears spilling down her face, and Iris accepted the verbal assault calmly. 

“I have to ask, Tyreen,” she said, and Tyreen started to cool off at once. Troy almost laughed. He’d found Iris through a phone menu that generated referrals based off of what you were looking for. There’d been no indication if she was any good; apparently, yeah, she was. “I needed to make sure both of you were willing, and that this wasn’t something your parents forced you into.” 

Troy shook his head, “Our, our mom died before it started...our dad never knew.” 

Iris nodded, and plucked her pad up again. “Did this start around puberty?” 

“We were fifteen,” Tyreen said, still huddling at the other end of the couch. “It was my idea.” 

“That’s not--” Troy started to protest reflexively, but stopped. Tyreen had made the actual first move, he’d just bated her into it. Because he was a coward. 

“How old are you now?” Iris’ pen was darting along the pad. Now that her pen was moving, Troy couldn’t stop looking at it. His parents had used a pen and pad, but nobody out here did. The sound was oddly comforting. 

“Twenty,” Troy said. 

“And Tyreen, you said that you ‘can’t stop’. What does that mean?” 

Tyreen swallowed hard. “It means we can’t stop screwing,” she said, rubbing angrily at her eyes. 

“Are you saying that you feel a compulsion? A really strong urge?” Iris prodded. “Or is it closer to, _when you stop, you miss it_?” 

Tyreen was silent, practically sulking. Troy answered for her. “We say we’re gonna stop,” he said, inching forward on his seat, and Iris looked at him, eyes sharp. “We say we are, but then we, we just hug, or something. Or we sit on the same side of the table at dinner. Or…”

“Or I’m in the shower and you follow me in,” Tyreen said dryly, and Troy huffed a laugh. 

“You woke me up with a BJ last week, Tyreen.” He reminded her, gently, and he felt her hand land on his wrist with a light squeeze. 

“Okay, I think I’m starting to see the problem here.” Iris chewed her lip for a moment, skimming her own notes. If the image of Troy getting blown by his sister bugged her, she hid it well. “You guys are in luck. I don’t exactly advertise it, but incest is something I’m deeply familiar with." She lifted her head and continued. “Your situation is unique, because all situations are. But you’re not the first pair of siblings who’ve coped with abuse like this. Now. We’re gonna back up, I’m going to take a history--” She looked at Tyreen, and added, “I’ll explain what therapy is, and we’ll go for there, okay?”


	2. Breakthroughs

The schedule that Iris proposed was one session a week together, and a solo one each. The joint session was working on their relationship; namely, no longer having sex and focusing on “building a healthy sibling dynamic”. Individual sessions were for everything else. The sessions were...well to be honest, they were hell. When they were together, it was actually easier. They could start arguing and Iris would diffuse it. Bouncing off each other was easier than opening up about themselves. And in Iris’ office, sitting on her checkered couch while she watched from her high-backed armchair, the arguments never got bad. A few calm yet pointed words from across the room, and both of them simmered down. 

When he was on his own, Troy ended up lying or cracking jokes a lot, trying to deflect. Sometimes he got mean, telling her to fuck off or just leave him alone. Occasionally he just broke down sobbing. Just like the arguments with Tyreen, the emotions never ran wild. If he got incoherent, or began panicking, Iris’ voice would wash over him. Seconds later, he was fine. Honestly, he had no idea what Tyreen did in her solo ones. Probably the same as him, he supposed. All he knew was that, when he’d pick her up after, she’d seem tired but over all alright. 

Iris didn’t know they were Sirens. Tyreen had found a pair of cheap holo-rigs, and he’d modified them enough to adequately hide their marks. She also had no idea who their parents were; but even Iris had dismissed that as unimportant. What she wanted to focus on was _feelings_ and _traumatic events_ and _distorted thinking_. Four months ago, Troy would’ve had no idea what distorted thinking even meant. 

Now, he was sitting on that checkered couch, arms crossed, and picking a fight because he wasn’t in the mood to talk about said distorted thinking. “I didn’t mean ANYTHING by it! I just fucking said it, okay? Why does it have to mean something?” He snapped, slumping against the back of the couch. 

“Why would you say it if it doesn’t mean anything?” Iris said. She was turning her pen over and over in her hand, and Troy avoided her eyes by focusing on it. “Look, at the very least, you shouldn’t talk about yourself like that.” 

“Uhg, like what!” He didn’t want to talk about this. There was no point; it was true, but Iris wouldn’t understand. Nobody would. 

“Like this was your fault,” Iris pressed. She leaned forward, and Troy kept his eyes on the pen. “This wasn’t your fault, Troy. Your sister--” 

“She’s full of shit,” Troy sneered, and ticked his eyes to her legs again. Iris always wore nylons, kitten heels, and tight blouses and skirts. In an early session, when she’d touched a nerve, he’d tried to leer at her, make a gross comment. She’d slapped him down with a look that could cut glass and flat, icy _Enough_ . Troy shook his head, and continued. “She acts like this whole thing was all her idea, like she started it. I started it, okay? _I_ seduced _her_.” Yes, Tyreen initiated things between him. When they were 15, she’d come into his room at night, gotten into bed with him, and slid her hand into his underwear. But that was after over a year of Troy baiting her. He’d basically stopped wearing shirts around her, had touched her constantly, made constant eye contact and innuendo and excuses to hold her. 

“No, no, I know that,” Iris said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that your sister consented to this relationship. But sometimes, you talk like you forced her, or tricked her.” Troy set his jaw. His tongue ached to respond, but he resisted. If he stone-walled, she’d be forced to move on. They were here to fix him, not dwell on shitty things that didn’t matter and couldn’t be changed. Iris didn’t move on. “What you said was--” She tapped her pen against her pad. “ _I’m the only person worth blaming_ . And a few weeks ago, you also said _We all know I can’t control myself_ . And before that, you said, _she’d be better off if she’d eaten me in the fucking womb_.” 

“I never fucking said that!” Troy squeaked. Of course he’d said that. He remembered saying that.

“Troy…” Iris’ voice was gentle. Coaxing. Her tone told him to look at her, and he finally did. Her eyes were soft and made him want to shrink away. “Troy. It doesn’t matter whose idea it was. Do you understand that?” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He shook his head, mutely. “It doesn’t.” Iris insisted. “Because this relationship, according to both you and your sister was consensual. Despite its dysfunction, both of you willingly participated in it.” Troy shook his head again, harder, tears in his eyes. Iris sighed. “You don’t think your sister consented? Despite her literally touching you first, you think you forced her?” 

“I took advantage of her,” Troy managed, voice cracking pathetically. “I should’ve--” He closed his eyes, begging his body not to cry. “I should’ve pushed her away. But I let her. Because I’m a creep and--” He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. The cool metal of his right hand soothed the heat in his face, but did little to calm him. 

“I hate the word ‘should’,” Iris said. “I really hate it, Troy. Because it's bullshit. No rule is constant, and ‘should’ is too dismissive and accusatory to be productive. Look. Incest is BAD. That’s a thing I don’t even have to say. But you and your sister were being abused--” 

“Our parents were protecting us--” 

“So are all abusive parents! They _think_! Intentions and motives are only one part of the picture. Their actions hurt you, and that’s a fact.” 

“So by that logic, didn’t I hurt Tyreen?” Troy said snidely. If she was going to twist tears out of him, he was damn well going to be difficult.

Iris narrowed her eyes. “Oooooor maybe Tyreen hurt you.” She responded flatly. “Hell, actually, maybe she molested you! How about that, that this was all her fault and you’re the victim?” 

“You’re full of shit,” Troy shot back. 

“Okay, then prove me wrong. Why are you so much more guilty than she is? Why are you so much more guilty than your parents? Why does everybody you love get an excuse but you?” 

He started to respond. Started to explain to her why, if he hadn’t been a demented little freak, Tyreen would’ve been fine. But he was having trouble...finding the words, that was all. It was hard to make a basic fact make sense to somebody who was blind to it. He cast around for evidence she’d accept and finally found some. “Girls aren’t like that,” Troy said. "I'm the guy, okay? Girls don't do gross shit like that on their OWN! She wouldn't have been into it if I hadn't fucking groomed her."

Iris closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. And then said, “I’ve treated two pairs of incestuous sisters.” 

Oh. Well fuck that argument then. “Look, I’m--it’s like Tyreen said that one time, I’m a parasite. She tried to eat me in the womb and I got all twisted up in her head, so now I can manipulate her.” Huh. He’d just blurted that out. But, it felt pretty true. Troy rolled with it. “I infected her. She...she’s been stuck with me. She has to take care of me. Because if she stops, I die. We...we can’t be apart. Ever. And…” The lump in his throat was back, and his eyes were burning again. “And she--that’s why she went along with it. She was taking care of me. I drain--” He caught himself. “I tried to like...drain her life force to stay alive. I was a parasite, I still am. She doesn’t know how to say no to me, so she gave me what I wanted--” His voice cracked on the last two words and he broke down crying. 

Iris spoke, and there was that calm. “You think you made her dirty. You think she was perfect, but you tainted her.” Instead of knives in his heart, the words were like knots giving way in his muscles: pure relief. “How long have you been carrying this?”

“Oh, you know. Just, like, my entire life.” He mumbled. He couldn’t stand the thought of meeting her eyes. 

Iris continued. Kept giving him the absolution he didn’t think he wanted. “You’re the only one in the world--the universe--that can make your sister do something. Is that what you think?” There was a laugh in her voice, but nothing mocking in her tone. “Do you have power over your sister? Yeah, you do. And she has power over you! That’s part of what love is, Troy! Equal exchange of power. I understand that you think you abused that power. But you love your sister, she loves you, and, for the final fucking time, this was mutual and consensual.” Troy chanced a glance upwards, to meet Iris’ gaze. Still no pity. Only honesty. “You want to fix your relationship with her? Preserve it, even without the sexual aspect? You can’t do that if you keep assigning blame. Okay?” 

Troy nodded, and gulped in a few shaky breaths. “Okay,” he agreed. “Okay.” 

There were a few moments of silence, as Iris tossed him a tissue box and he pulled himself together. Once he’d stopped sniffling, Iris asked, “You said that if you and sister split up, you’ll die?” 

Troy froze. Shit. SHIT. “I’m sick all the time,” he reminded her. “I can’t exactly support myself and care for myself at the same time. Besides, she uh...knows my body? I can’t--I’m really dependent on her.” 

Iris arched an eyebrow, but said, “Yeah. Right.” She didn’t believe him, but clearly thought pressing was a bad idea. He was grateful for that. The session timed out, and Troy left Iris’ office feeling mostly put back together. Tyreen was waiting in the parking lot, feet on the dash, eating popcorn as she watched a movie on her echo. Instead of opening the driver’s door, Troy walked around to her side and looked down at her.

“Hey, little bro!” She sing-songed. “How was the head shrinking?” 

“Get out for a minute,” he said, instead of answering her. 

Tyreen looked up at him, frowning. “Uh. Everything cool?” She asked. 

“Yeah, I just...can you get out for a minute?” He repeated. “Um. I want a hug?” His face burned. He didn’t think he’d _asked_ for a hug in years. 

Tyreen’s eyes went wide, and she kind of gaped at him. “Oh! Oh, yeah, you can--I mean sure!” She scrambled out of the car, stumbling as she tried to get her legs off the dash too quickly. She slid out of the car, abandoning her echo and snack bag on the seat. Tyreen held her arms out, and Troy stepped into them. Tyreen pressed her face into his chest, and he wanted to melt into her arms. Instead, he buried his face in her soft, thick hair, and breathed her smell in. 

“Love you,” he whispered, kissing her hair. 

Tyreen giggled, and it made his heart ache. In a nice way, though. “Mmm. I love you too.” 

Troy rubbed her back, but pulled away after that. As much as he’d have liked to cuddle with his sister for hours and hours, too much contact could end with both of them naked and panting. Which was the main thing they were avoiding. Iris had lost her mind a little bit when they’d told her they’d been sharing a bed since leaving home. Troy recalled her exact words as being _“Okay how do you two expect to stop fucking if you’re literally sleeping together?”_ The first few nights in a bed away from Tyreen had been hard. But it was working, at least. They hadn’t had sex in over two months, and hadn’t kissed in at least a week. He almost broke that second streak in the parking lot, as Tyreen looked up at him. Her eyes were soft and she was smiling at him, and it was hard not to notice how beautiful she was. Resisting, Troy ducked to kiss the top of her head again. 

“You look tired. Let’s go home and play more of that game about the wizards.” Tyreen gave him another smile, and turned to hop back into the car. 

“Yeah. Sounds awesome.” Troy walked to the driver’s side and got in. 

-

Up in her office, Iris was at her desk, scribbling her session notes. Troy had been all over the map today. Which wouldn’t have been a big problem, if she hadn’t had two different clients go through panic attacks in her office before. That was on top of diffusing the fist fight on her subway car that morning. She needed to go home, she needed to sleep and recalibrate. Her echo buzzed on the desk; Jett was calling her. Iris hit the ACCEPT without looking. “Yeah, babe?” 

Her brother's warm voice came through the speakers. “The hells going on with you? I can feel you frying out.” 

“I’m fine,” Iris lied, fruitlessly. “I had a long day; I’ll be home in a couple hours.” 

“Do you want me to come get you?” 

She paused. The selfish answer was yes, of course she did. Teleporting sounded easier than riding the subway again. “No,” she said reluctantly. “Don’t stress yourself. Your arm’s still healing, and using your powers could--” 

“Kiddo,” Jett whined. “I wanna see you now.” Under the whine, there was another emotion. Well...more of an urge. 

Iris flushed. “You can’t wait 2 hours?” He'd tried to keep her in bed that morning, and apparently he hadn't forgotten. 

“Mmm. Do _you_ wanna wait two hours?” 

“Yes. Because I'm not an animal.” 

“Come on...you said you had a shitty day. I wanna make it all better.” That was rather tempting. “Don’t you want me to sweep in...whisk you home...draw you a bath and--” 

“Fuck,” Iris sighed. “Yeah. Yeah okay. Come get me--” There was a presence at her back, and he was leaning over the back of her desk chair. 

“Already here!” 

Iris snorted, and began putting her papers away. Session notes were part of the illusion for her anyway; her memory was literally perfect. “You have no idea what I’ve been through today,” she said, standing. 

Jett wrapped his arms around her waist, the cast on his left bumping and scraping her stomach. His chin rested on her shoulder, and she felt better already. “You can tell me about it at home.” Iris let him nuzzle her neck, feeling the scratch of his stubble. If his voice hadn’t given his intentions away, his aura would have. He was feeling playful and amorous, and she knew hers was likely starting to match it. Her older brother couldn’t read and manipulate emotions like she could; his powers were spacial instead of mental. But she’d found a way to let him in when they were teenagers. He could read her now; it had been easier than talking, back then. 

“You still seeing those twins with the crazy parents?” Jett murmured, nuzzling the corner of her jaw. They had the same slim, heart-shaped faces, the same hazel eyes. He was taller, his hair darker. 

“Yep. They’re making progress.” She had to admit, she’d been surprised. Troy was so raw, and Tyreen so guarded. Iris had been convinced they’d bolt the second things got tough. But no, they were actually working, actually trying. She was proud of them. 

She’d been proud of herself too, if she didn’t feel like such a hypocrite. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Iris a good therapist? Yes! Is Iris a liar who is betraying fundamental principles of her own practice? Also yes!


	3. Goals & Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About time Tyreen got her own chapter. This fic is basically me analyzing the shit out the Twins, so enjoy!

Diagnosis was a genuinely fun part of the job for Iris. It was the part she could remove herself from, the part that was merely analysis. During a diagnosis, she got to examine her notes and interpret the facts and make a Very Smart Professional decision. And the Twins were her first real isolation case. A whole new category of environmental factors to inform her conclusion. The first and easiest was Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, for both of them. Major Depressive Disorder followed, though they exhibited different symptom groups: Tyreen showed anger, numbness, and disconnection while Troy favored indirect self-harm and dangerously negative thoughts. 

Troy also had a fairly obvious panic disorder and generalized anxiety. Iris had suspected that Tyreen had a personality disorder, specifically cluster B. But she’d largely discarded that. Tyreen was certainly a more difficult client than Troy.Real emotional expression, other than rage and haughtiness, were rare for her. Instead, Tyreen presented ‘faces’, different masks that helped her navigate the world. Without them, she was aggressive by default, her moods always erratic, and her ego made it impossible for her to ask for help. She could  _ accept _ it, but only if it was forced into her hands. Or disguised as something else. Like “girl talk”. 

“Just tell me what’s going on with you,” Iris said, and chucked another pencil at the ceiling. It stuck in, vibrating for a few seconds. “You wouldn’t back-slide without a reason, and you know you can tell me.” Tyreen had gotten into bed with Troy a couple of days before, and had kissed him until he woke up. They didn’t have sex but they’d made out for a while. Now Tyreen didn’t want to talk about why. 

“Clearly I’m not.” Tyreen threw her own pencil, which also stuck. “I was bored and horny, okay? I figured we could do it one last time, you know?” 

“No, I don’t know. Why now? You’ve both been doing so good.” Really good, actually. They had jobs, actual jobs. Not even the same building either! No friends yet, but they were working on it. And best of all, no inappropriate touching, no kissing, no sexual contact for four months. Until Tyreen had her “moment of weakness”. 

“I told you, I was bored and I was horny,” Tyreen snapped. 

“You spend most of your day bored and horny, so why did you decide to go to your brother this time?” 

Troy had been distressed in his session afterwards. Caught between angry at Tyreen and reluctant to tell on her or hold her responsible. They’d spent his entire hour working through his emotions and getting him calm enough to talk to his sister again. Anything else Troy had been dealing with would have to wait a week.

But that wasn’t important right now. Getting Tyreen to be honest was. 

Across the room, Tyreen was clearly fuming, but immobilized. She’d learned that getting angry didn’t work with Iris, and even Tyreen could be exhausted by punching a brick wall. So, she tried to swallow her emotions to “prove” she was still in control, and everything would get stuck in her throat. Iris scanned her aura again, trying to see what she was choking on. Anger, as always. Anxiety, sharp and strong. Jealousy, too. 

Finally, Tyreen hurled another pencil into the plaster ceiling. “Look, I meant it, I just wanted to jump him one more time. Is that so awful? Am I going to break his tiny little mind and get his switch stuck on ‘freak’ forever if we fuck exactly 260,001 times?” She snarled, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. 

“You haven’t had sex that many times, so, no, that’s not my problem.” Iris sat up, swinging her legs off the arm of her chair. She pushed her feet back into her heels, and put her elbows on her knees and chin in her hands. Tyreen stayed on her back, scowling at her pencils. “Breakups are tough. Even if they’re for the best.” Iris said softly. 

“Why are you so sure it’s for the best?” Tyreen snapped. “What if it's NOT? What if our lives just get shittier?” She turned her head to glare at Iris instead. “You said we started screwing cuz it was the only thing that made us happy. Why do you think we should stop being  _ happy _ ?” 

“I don’t want you to stop being happy, Tyreen. But it has to be real, lasting, healthy happiness. Not a coping mechanism.” 

“That’s such bullshit!” Tyreen sat up, so she had more room to gesture. “What’s the fucking difference?! Happy is happy, right?” She didn’t turn her body, and instead remained facing the window. 

“Not if it's doing more harm than good, Tyreen. Especially if you have alternatives that are better for you. Which you do now.” Tyreen didn’t look at her, refused to. She was radiating tension, her trauma telling her to bolt. Iris blew out a sigh and took her glasses off to rub the bridge of her nose. “I meant what I said. You’re better than this. I know something else is going on, but you need to figure out how to tell what that is.” Creating emotions in people was difficult. But altering a present emotion became easy, with practice. It felt invasive and borderline immortal to alter emotions in her clients unless it was an emergency, but cooling Tyreen off right now was tempting. 

Tyreen shifted on the couch, starting to hunch over. Still hiding her face as much as she could. “Troy has a crush on some bimbo that works across the street from him,” Tyreen growled. 

Ah. Okay. Iris shifted in the chair, reaching for her notepad. Relieved she’s held off on fucking with Tyreen’s emotional state. “He didn’t tell me that,” she remarked. “But he told you?” 

Tyreen snorted. “Of course he didn’t tell me, I just  _ know _ .” 

Iris found her pen. “Right, I forgot, you read minds.” 

“I saw him with her!” Tyreen snapped, finally spinning on the couch to face Iris. Her fingers were digging into the upholstery, dark red nails stark against the grey and white checks. “I went to meet him at the repair shop for lunch, and he eats outside in that little square, right? And there’s that big library right across from it, and there’s this--” Tyreen gestured with one hand, snapping her flat palm back and forth in a cutting motion. “This little...THING with--” Now she was touching her hair, eyes ticking up towards the ceiling as she found the words. “All this fucking hair! Cutesy little dress, that teeny-bopper ‘soft girl’ shit, you know?” 

The ‘thing’ was a girl. They’d have to talk about Tyreen depersonalizing others. “I do know. And, what? Troy noticed her, pointed her out?” 

“He stopped talking! Like, mid-WORD just cuts off and STARES at her, until she looks at him and waves! So I’m all ‘who the fuck is that?’ and he’s just like ‘Uh that’s Millie, she’s at the front desk, she’s nice’.” Iris arched a brow and Tyreen groaned. “I’m not explaining it right! He was talking, and he said ‘she’s at the front desk, she’s--’ and then he PAUSED, he like, PAUSED, and looked at me, and then he said  _ nice _ .” Tyreen finished with a huff and slumped back. Arms crossed, lips pouting, eyes stubbornly watching Iris’ feet. 

God she looked like her brother sometimes. “Okay,” Iris conceded. “I see what you mean.” 

“He didn’t tell me about her,” Tyreen mumbled, the hurt now obvious in her voice. “That means he likes her.” She bit her lip and sank further into the couch. Even after all this time, she hated being vulnerable. Humiliation was flaring in her, tingeing the air of the office like cooking steam. 

“We shouldn’t pretend we know exactly what’s going on with Troy,” Iris said gently. “But again, I see what you mean. And I understand why you got jealous.” 

“That’s not it!” Tyreen exploded. “I don’t give a fuck about that! I just--why, okay? Why now, why right now?! Can’t he wait?” Iris didn’t respond yet, waiting for more. “We just started--no, we just STOPPED a few months ago! Isn’t it soon for him to, to be…” She petered out. Her hands dropped back to her lap. “For him to be looking at other people?” She finished.

“Breakups are hard,” Iris repeated. “Because it's one thing to move on from somebody, and it's another to watch somebody move on from you.” The thought of Jett being with somebody else made her blood boil. “People who aren’t related get to cut their exes out of their lives. But you kinda wanna keep your twin around. Cuz, you know. He’s your goddamn twin.” Tyreen glanced at her, and gave an odd combination of a shrug and a nod. “And, not to be a bad therapist by judging him or whatever, but personally? Yes. Four months might be a bit soon. Not even just because of your exact situation. But after any five year relationship, that is  _ soon _ .” She let Tyreen absorb that, and could observe some of her anxiety evaporating. “We do not actually know that he likes her. And maybe it is soon, but it might not be too soon. That’s all I’m going to say until I can talk to Troy, and to both of you together. Okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Okay,” Tyreen mumbled. She sniffed and tried to subtly swipe at her eyes. 

“Okay. Now. You’re telling me you’re not jealous. And as much as you love your brother, you wouldn’t be freaking out like this just because you’re concerned. So spill.” She jotted a few lines of notes about the conversation. Even if she didn’t need them, it was good to have a record. You never knew when you were going to get hit by a bus and leave your clients without care. Notes could let the next poor sap know what was in store for them. 

“...It’s fucking stupid,” Tyreen said. 

“Nothing’s stupid. And even if it is stupid, you’re paying me to listen to it.” 

Tyreen rolled her eyes, and sniffed again. “I don’t know how to be with anybody else.” She scrubbed at her eye again, still avoiding Iris’ gaze. “Troy’s...what if…” She took a breath, and her aura shifted, subtly. “What if I’m the one whose stuck on freak? What if it’s bad with anybody else, or like, I’M bad with everybody else? And then what? I have to be alone FOREVER and just never have sex again, and Troy gets Library Bitch?” Her lip was quivering, and her breath was coming faster. “I don’t know how to figure out who to be with or if somebody wants me, and maybe nobody besides Troy ever will and I wanted to feel it one last time but he got so pissed at me--” She cut herself off with an angry sob and she looked surprised for half a second. Then her face was in her hands and she was bawling. 

Iris reacted on reflex, dropping her pad and striding across the room to sit beside her. She was reaching for Tyreen’s back, but Tyreen jerked away. Her pale blue eyes peeked through her short, slim fingers. “Don’t!” She said, shrill and a little frightened. 

Iris backed off, hands up with her fingers spread. “Okay, okay,” she soothed. “I’m sorry, Tyreen.” Tyreen closed her fingers and curled into herself, sobbing. They were deep and ragged, and seemed like they were a long time coming. Tyreen hadn’t cried in the office since their first session. Now, Iris was suspecting she’d hadn’t cried outside of it since then either. When the sobs died out, and Tyreen’s breathing had slowed, Iris spoke again. “Of course you’re worried about that. All of this is new and really scary, and you can’t find a teacher. You just need to learn. But you’re not going to be alone forever. There will be other people who want you, other people who will love you. They might come from literally anywhere, and show up at really weird times. And sometimes it's gonna make you feel shitty, like now. And sometimes, it’s gonna make you feel better than anything else.” Tyreen didn’t respond, but she did lower her hands and look side-long at Iris. “I’m sorry about how much this whole process is going to hurt. But sometimes, hurt is worth it. And the fear is worth it, when you go out in the world and find a good one.” 

“But how the fuck do I even do that?” Tyreen moaned. “And god, I’m just so fucking  _ frustrated _ ! I miss sex!” 

Iris laughed, and stood up to go back to her chair. “Dating can lead to sex.” 

“I don’t wanna wait that long!” Tyreen whined. “If I could just get fucked good a few times, I might stop being such a crazy bitch!” 

Iris sat back down and replaced her glasses. Crossing her legs, she tore off a page and began writing on it. “I have a solution to that,” she said. “Tyreen, how do you feel about employing a sex worker?” 

Tyreen stared at her. “Uh. What?” She pinched her eyebrows together. “Isn’t that what you are?” 

“Uh. No. Not, really.” 

“You have a job, and your job’s about sex. Sex, Worker.” Tyreen said, but she sounded uncertain now. 

“I’m a sex  _ therapist _ . Sex  _ worker _ refers specifically to people who provide sexual gratification or services for a living.” Iris leaned across the gap between their seats and Tyreen took the paper. “Including having sex with people for money.” Tyreen’s head shot up and she stared at Iris in something like horror. Iris didn’t balk. “That is the number for a full service sex worker agency that I’ve been working with for years. I trust them. It could be a safe, clean environment where you can explore and experience these things without the pressures of dating.” 

Tyreen was now gaping at the paper in her hand. “I...you want me to pay somebody--” 

“Don’t want you to do anything except become happier and healthier. And this is a possible solution to some of your current problems. If you hate the idea, don’t do it.” 

“Um.” Tyreen tightened her grip on the paper. “I didn’t say I hated the idea…” She swallowed, blushed, and shoved the paper into her pocket. She clasped her hands in her lap, an odd gesture for her. “But you agree that if he’s got the hots for Library Bitch, it’s way too soon?” 

Iris laughed again, and leaned onto the arm of her chair. Tyreen had passed over her Ice Queen mask in favor of her Bitchy BFF one. Her masks were surprisingly good, given her isolated childhood. She must have been copying movie characters. “Don’t call her that,” Iris said. “Don’t decide you hate her because your brother might think she’s cute.” 

“But you agreed it's too soon!” Tyreen insisted. “So if I push her down those big marble steps and smash her cute little face in, I’m doing him a favor!” 

“You can’t kill her and we’re not gonna speculate about your brother. I can’t talk about another client like that, which you know!” 

“But he’s soooo stupid and you’re the only one who gets it!” 

“If he gets a girlfriend you can commiserate with her,” Iris shot back, and Tyreen gasped as if wounded. 

“Traitor! You are a TRAITOR!” 

“I’m a therapist. I’m incapable of betrayal.” 


	4. Progress Notes

One of the things Iris had recommended was getting jobs. Good for socializing, and it got them both out of the house. Neither one of them thought there was much chance, but the employment office came through. For Tyreen, they had her working in a junk and scrap recycling plant, crushing tons of garbage into new metal. She loved the machines, the random things she could, salvage, the noise, the dearth of supervision after she was trained. And for Troy, they sent him to the Sparkers. 

Sparker Repair and Resale was a general machine and electronic shop, owned and operated by a family of indeterminate size. They’d run the shop for decades and didn’t seem to care that Troy couldn’t produce an ID or a high school diploma. The “interview” was watching him repair two busted Echos. One of the girls, Joey, gave him a lot of shit, but only in the way Tyreen did. And unlike Tyreen, Joey never actually hurt his feelings. Troy’s actual boss, Gerardo, “head of the family”, taught him a lot, when he had time. The rest of the cousins and relatives were still a blur of faces, but they all seemed equally decent. He liked them. 

He liked this part of town too. The city was called Ariel, the planet Cherubim. Jakobs controlled, he was pretty sure. Or maybe Maliwan. Who could keep track? The buildings were old, but in okay shape. Most modern architecture relied on metal, but Cherubim still favored marble and limestone. Uptown Ariel was especially pretty; lots of parks and stores and a few museums. Across the square from the shop, there was a huge library. It’s roof held four massive stone lions, and intricate carvings framed its huge windows. Out front, there were big front steps, carved out of white marble, their wide banisters dotted with tall lamp posts. At first, Troy was eating lunch in the park just to revel in the clouds rolling past and gawk at the city’s glamor. Then, it was just to watch the people. 

Of those who gathered on the library steps to read and lounge and talk, Troy started to recognize ones who were there regularly. In particular was a girl who probably worked there. He only ever saw her walk in and out of the front doors. She’d sit near the end of the huge banisters, eating and watching her ECHO as she leaned against the stylized lamppost. From that distance, the most Troy could see to distinguish her was a tall frame, dark, fluffy hair, and a fondness for dresses and flowy tops. A small part of him started to wonder if she was cute. 

The very first time Mr. S left him alone in the shop, Troy had an anxiety attack. But he dealt with it, nothing happened, and the next time he was left alone he didn’t freak out until later. So one night, feeling bold and wanting some extra hours, Troy actually volunteered to lock up alone. 

Technically, they were already closed. He was just staying late to finish an adjustment to his holo-rig. A typical holorig was of a series of bands and stick-on disks that would cover the body. Troy and Tyreen only needed the “left arm” bands: bicep, below the elbow, and wrist. The edges of the bands contained arrays of projectors that were nearly microscopic, and covered the area between the bands in a flexible illusion. Troy was making some adjustments to ensure the water-proofing was up to snuff. 

Upfront, the door banged open and the bell shouted, making him jump. Troy cursed and yanked the bands back on. As he stood, the holorig fired up and fuzzed away his Siren marks. “Hey! We’re closed!” Footsteps thudded over the floor outside. He came out of the workshop and into the store front...only to stop dead in the doorway. 

His visitor was sitting on the floor behind the store’s front counter, her knees hugged to her chest. Her face was buried in her arms, and she was visibly shaking. Troy blinked at her; most of the storefront lights were out, leaving her in shadow. “Um? Hi?” 

She jumped and looked up at him. “Please!” She whispered, and it was clear she was crying. Her voice was almost too thick to understand. “I'm sorry, I know you’re closed but--” 

“Uh, it’s okay, what’s going on?” Troy finally flipped the switch beside the door, bringing up the lights over the counter. “Oh shit, it’s you!” 

Up close, her curls were like a cloud swirling around her face, and everything about her looked round and soft. The skater dress she was wearing was an eye-catching purple against the tawny-golden brown of her skin, the skirt drawing his eye down one long leg. Troy was trying not to stare, but he’d been staring for months already. 

The girl gulped and gave him a shaky smile. If she saw him gawking, she didn’t seem bothered. “Yes, from...outside,” she said, jerking head towards the door behind her, and relief flooded him. “I see you eating in the square a lot, and your lights--” She pointed one shaky finger over his shoulder. The lights in the workshop windows must have been visible from the street. “I hoped  _ someone _ was still in here.” She finished, voice shaking. 

Troy, feeling a little awkward, sank to the floor and sat down across from her. He smiled back and said, “I’m Troy. What’s wrong?” 

“Um, I was, I was working late.” The more she talked, the more he realized that her speech wasn’t garbled from tears; she had an accent, a thick one. “My apartment is boring when my roommate is away from there, so I busy myself in the Stacked.” She wiped at her eyes, sniffling again. Her eyes were down-turned and slender, the irises the same brown as her hair. “And when I left, when I left there was a man on the bottom step--” Her lip quivered. 

Troy’s heart sank. “Did he try to hurt you?” He asked, and the girl’s face crumbled, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Troy started to reach for her, but let his hand drop back to his lap. As she let out a few breathy sobs, he tried again. “I didn’t mean to make you upset,” he said gently. 

The girl sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “It’s all jewelry,” she mumbled. Troy had no idea what that meant, but it seemed sarcastic. Still, she gave him another smile. “I’m Millie,” she added. 

“Hi Millie. You’re safe now, okay?” She smiled at him again, bigger this time, and it made his stomach flip a little. She  _ was _ cute. More than cute. Troy looked up, over the countertop. “I’m gonna check outside.” 

The creep that had been following Millie was not outside, so Troy locked up the shop and walked her home. It was hard to stop looking at her. She was just so pretty, and every glance showed him something new. Like the yellow crystal hearts hanging from her ears or the beauty mark under one eye or the brilliant pink scar on her left elbow. He kept asking her questions, just to hear her talk. 

Millie was from Anholt, a Dahl planet in the central systems. She’d just finished school there and came here to get away from her family for a bit. She was also fascinated by his arm. Her mother worked for one of the bio-mechanical companies, and she’d never seen one developed by a gun manufacturer. “It works well for you? Does not hurt you?” Millie inquired, resting her fingers on the arms’ bicep. 

Troy refused to admit he shivered. “Yeah, it's awesome.” 

Millie brushed her fingertips over the faded Hyperion logo. “Well,” she said dismissively. “Perhaps they can make one thing right.” 

Troy laughed. “Oh, I knew it, you’re snooty!” 

“I am not, I am simply not afraid to call trash what it is.” 

When he got her to the front door of her building, Millie caught his hand. “Dankeshon, Troy,” she whispered, and went up on her toes. Just tall enough to reach, Millie pecked his cheek and Troy felt like he was stumbling the whole way home. Telling Tyreen was his first instinct. She was his sister and his de facto best friend, and a Pretty Girl just gave him a kiss. He’d just saved a Pretty Girl from a creep, and got a KISS for it. On the cheek, but still! 

But of course he couldn’t tell Tyreen, Troy realized as he got home. He’d found Tyreen asleep on the couch, and the sight of her made him feel oddly guilty. Tyreen wouldn’t be happy he’d gotten a kiss. She’d be hurt, and might get mad at him. Even after they’d agreed they should stop sleeping together, she’d freak if she caught Troy eyeing someone else. Sometimes she responded by yelling at him. Sometimes she responded by fucking his brains out. Neither one was ideal, because Troy knew he wasn’t strong enough to turn her down yet. 

So, Troy kept his little secret. Everyday, he’d see Millie across the square again, and remember her lips on his cheek. She saw him too, and would wave. Troy would wave back and pretend he was eventually going to talk to her. Hell, a month after Millie had fled into the shop to hide, he even dreamed about her. Troy was having a perfectly normal dream about desperately trying to tape a broken egg back together. But then the egg was gone, and he was in the shop, Millie sitting on the counter. “I want to say thank you again,” she said, and Troy kissed her. Did other things with her too. 

Troy’s first wet dream had been about Tyreen. Most of them continued to be about Tyreen, with a few movie or video game characters peppered in. The dream about Millie had felt like she herself did in real life: new and different and his. 

Until Tyreen saw Millie and apparently, somehow, knew Troy had a thing for her. Now he’d hurt her anyways, and for what? He’d never even gone over to talk to Millie again. 

In the present, Iris was listening patiently. “You didn’t mean to hurt Tyreen’s feelings,” she began. “But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.” 

Troy laughed, a little nervously. “Yeah? What’s up then?” Apparently, Tyreen had spent most of her session ranting about him. Iris had greeted him by saying,  _ “Who is library bitch and why does Tyreen hate her?” _

“You liked helping her a lot, huh?” Iris asked softly. 

Troy flushed. “I guess.” He had. Liked the way she’d looked at him when he told her she was safe. And when he promised to walk her home. “She--” He looked down at his hands. Millie had grabbed his left one under the bright LED light of her front stoop. She had short, slim fingers, with shimmery red nails, and he could still remember the furtive way her thumb swept across the back of his hand. Unconsciously tracing over the hidden Siren marks. “She asked if I could walk her back again, next time she worked that late. Uh, I said yeah, if she calls the shop and gives me some notice I’d…” He trailed off and shrugged. “She never did though, so.” 

“How did it make you feel, protecting her?” 

Troy blushed even deeper. “Aw, come on, Iris.” He shouldn’t have brought up the dream; now he was remembering it, and his blood was pumping faster. “I...strong, I guess. And, I don’t know it was nice to--” Millie had blushed too, when she kissed him. Before that too, when he took both of her hands in his to help her from the floor.  _ Three times, she touched him three different times. _ . 

“Strong and  _ capable _ ,” Troy admitted softly. “Like I was worth something. Cuz I was helping somebody instead of being helped.” In his dream, Millie had asked him to be gentle. The implication that he could actually hurt her if he wasn’t careful made his head spin. “No girl’s ever looked at me like that, like I was,” he paused, embarrassed. “Like I was sexy,” he managed. Why did therapy have to be this embarrassing? 

Iris tilted her head, pen pausing mid-stroke. Troy felt pinned by her gaze; sometimes it felt like Iris could see into his head. “Tyreen never made you feel attractive?” 

His ears burned. “Uh. Like, besides Tyreen! Obviously.” Iris nodded, but the arch of her bow and the slow cross of her legs showed dissatisfaction. She wanted to keep digging at him, and Troy was suddenly not in the mood to fight it. “Okay,” he said, blowing out a sigh. “Obviously, Tyreen thought I was hot. But she had nothing to compare me to! I was just available: horny teenage boy, meet horny teenage girl. Course she thought I was sexy. But, Millie? She’s from some swanky central planet, and she’s real-world gorgeous. Her thinking I’m hot? That actually means something!”

“So you think she was wrong to find you attractive?” 

Troy squinted at her. “We’re siblings, so, I mean wasn’t she always wrong to?” 

“I only meant,” Iris paused, and re-crossed her legs, shifting. A few wisps of her not-blonde and not-brown hair were coming loose to lay over her wide cheekbones. “That you think Tyreen finding you ‘hot’ isn’t evidence that someone else might?” 

“...No.” 

“Can you tell me why not?” 

Troy drummed his fingers on his leg, procrastinating. About three months into working for the Sparkers, Joey forcibly retired his old prosthetic. The stained white and silver arm was fourth-hand, refurbished, and three sizes too small. The bad sizing made it look like his right arm was just dirty bones. He’d protested the entire time Joey was tuning the dark green, properly sized upgrade to his spinal rig. “Consider it an investment. You’ll do better work if you have two functioning hands. ” Troy didn’t cry. Tyreen did a little, at their tiny apartment later. 

Finally, he said, “So, like. One time my dad…” He blew out a sigh. They’d actually gone a few sessions without talking about his parents. Instead, Iris had been helping him on conflict resolution, because apparently he was bad at it. “My mom was way hotter than my dad. Objectively! Like, in a totally not gross way, Tyreen and I both knew she was out of his league.” Iris nodded, so he plowed ahead. “And I asked him once how he...like why HIM you know? And he told me that love is blind and crazy. He said that love will make anybody beautiful.” 

“And this somehow made you insecure?” Iris asked dryly, and Troy managed a laugh. 

“No, uh. Tyreen, already loved me.” 

Silence. “Ah.” Iris’ pen started scratching. 

“I didn’t have any proof that I was--you know. Cuz Tyreen was the only one who ever...and like what does she know?” 

“Mmm, I get you,” Iris confirmed. “But Millie doesn’t know you. If she thinks you’re hot--” 

“Now THAT is valid data!” Troy couldn’t help grinning, but it faded fast. “But, whatever right?” 

“No, not right. What’s ‘whatever’?” Iris’ pen was still scratching. 

“Look, you saw how Tyreen reacted to me just ACKNOWLEDGING a girl!” Troy gestured hopelessly. “Even if I hadn’t waited too long, which I think I did, she’s clearly not ready!” 

Iris nodded. “Have you and Tyreen talked about this at all? Told her the real story?” 

Troy shook his head. “She doesn’t wanna talk about it, she wants to fight about it.” He’d tried a few times. She either shut him down or turned into a complete bitch. He knew if he kept pushing, she’d resort to taking her clothes off. 

“Mmm. Not surprised.” Iris propped her chin on her hand and said, “Your sister wants things to change at her pace. Which is fine for her! But you get your own pace.” 

Troy looked out the window at the parking lot. Tyreen had refused to come with him this time.  _ “I’m not going to fucking wait for you in the parking lot like an mistreated yorkie,” _ she’d snapped from behind her locked bedroom door. Troy had only cried a little in the car. 

“I’m always gonna love her best,” Troy mumbled. The idea of Tyreen being jealous of Millie was kind of absurd.  _ Why did she have to get so pissed over nothing? _ “That’ll never change.” 

“Troy, nothing you can do will make her understand that. Tyreen has to trust your love on her own.” 

Across town, Tyreen emerged from the subway entrance and onto the sidewalk. In one hand she clutched the address that Iris had given her. Across the street, a three story building was all done up in red paint and dark glass. Beside the front door hung a tasteful sign: The Satin Club. Tyreen bounced in place staring at it, and then growled, “Fuck you, Troy,” under her breath. When the light changed, she bolted through the crosswalk and up to the front door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: the phrase Millie used is Brazilian slang for "it's all good".


	5. A Bed of Stars (Chapter 4.5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. Like. I'm cheating. This chapter does not fit with the format I've established (taking place entirely outside Iris' office) and I'm trying to keep this as close to 7 chapters as possible. Thus, I will be doing a few ".5" chapters because I'm a heathen and none of you can stop me.

Tyreen passed through the door of the Satin Club, and found herself in a small reception room. The walls were draped in dark fabrics, the lights dim, and one wall was dominated by an imposing back desk. The small sign on top proclaimed CHECK-IN. Behind it was a porcelain skinned woman with jet black hair and a painted smile. “Hello,” she said pleasantly. “I’m Tasha, is this your first time here?” 

“Uh…” Seeing the woman, so polished and sharp, had her hyper-aware of her own appearance. She hadn’t trimmed her scruffy waves since before leaving home, and her sandy brown locks were uneven around her face. “Yeah, it is.” Tyreen walked closer, trying to smooth her second hand clothes. The bravado was gone, but she refused to turn back. 

The woman smiled at her, and stuck out her hand. “ID, please!” Tyreen froze, unable to remember where it was, and then started patting her pockets. Finally, she produced it and gave it over. The clerk inspected it, and said, “Okay, you’re over 18. Now,” she looked up and continued. “Our business hosts two types of companions. On staff, and contractors. On staff are hourly rate, and you don’t need to pay for the room.” Tyreen's stomach lurched a little as the woman handed her a laminated card. “These are the options and limits for on staff. Contractors, they have individual prices and more specialized services, but they rent rooms from us. Which factors into price.” 

Tyreen nodded, stomach churning, and her hand shook a little as she clutched the card. “Okay, yep, got it.” 

The woman continued, her voice taking on a reassuring tone. “You can tell who’s who by the velvet bracelets.” She tapped one wrist. “Green is on-staff. You can just walk up to any of them and take them upstairs. Yellow is contractor, and you have to negotiate with them. Red is non sexual staff.” She pointed to the set of double doors past her desk. “We also have a full bar, if you just want to watch and think and get acclimated.” 

Tyreen didn’t think she could manage more words, so she smiled weakly and forced herself through the doors. Beyond them was another room of draped fabric, but the sprawling floor was filled with couches. And the couches filled with people. Tyreen halted, practically mid-step, as she took it in. 

Men, women, and variations there upon. Humans and bots. Most fully dressed, but some practically stripped bare. Bodies of wildly varying sizes, more skin and hair colors than she knew existed, all radiating sex and tempation and excitement. Several pairs of eyes cut to her, and Tyreen’s face burned. She turned on her heel and staggered towards the bar, feeling watched the whole way. She slid onto a stool without looking. “Whatever’s on tap!” She blurted, not looking up when the barkeep’s shadow fell over her. Tyreen put her face in her hands and her elbows on the bar, trying to breathe slowly until her head stopped spinning. 

The night Troy and Tyreen left Nekrotafeyo was mostly a blur. They’d spent the weeks leading up to it smuggling their possessions and a few stashes of food onto the repaired ship, all in the dead of night when their father was asleep. Troy had been terrified that their father was going to hear the ship starting up. Part of the drawback of the rebuilt engine was the god-awful noise. Tyreen had assured him, over and over, that Dad slept too heavy to hear it from inside the cavern. “What if he does?” Troy had asked, his head in her lap. “What if he tries to stop us?” 

Tyreen had stroked his hair, admiring the smooth skin of his bare back. “I’ll kill him if I fucking have to.” 

Troy was playing pilot. The controls came easily to him, while Tyreen struggled and got frustrated. Tyreen stood behind him, gripping the back of the seat as he worked. “Sit down,” Troy said. “You can’t be unbuckled when we take off.” She listened, reluctantly strapping herself in. She didn’t say it, but she’d wanted to stay close to him. 

The ship shuddered and groaned, and for a few heart stopping seconds she thought the engine would die. But, the engine kept coughing and groaning and the ship lifted off from the violet-green sand. Tyreen clutched the straps of her seat’s harness, breath catching in her throat. “Troy?” 

“Almost there,” Troy assured her, sounding a little breathless himself. 

Whatever resistance was keeping them in limbo broke, and the ship shot into the ever-clouded sky. Tyreen laughed, loud and startled, and looked over at Troy. He was clutching the handles of yoke, eyes glued to the observation window. “Stratosphere, atmosphere, mesophere--” His refurbished right arm screeched in protest when he jerked it from the yoke to jab a few buttons and spin a dial. “Come on, pal, do this for me and I’ll deep-clean the entire console. I promise, just get us the fuck out of here--” 

Endless inky black space and a trillion burning stars bloomed out before them, and Tyreen laughed again, though it felt more like a sob. Troy screamed “YES”, a single jubilant syllable, and slapped his hands together. 

“Can I do it?” Tyreen asked, bouncing in her seat. “Can I hit the button please please can I--” 

Troy grinned at his, eyes bright, and circled one finger in the air above the button. “Help yourself, sis,” he said hoarsely, and Tyreen was trembling as slapped her hand down onto it. The ship filled with a new sound, a smooth metallic rush, as the Jump Drive woke up and engaged. All those stars swirled together into one blinding pinpoint of light, and it felt like the ship was pulling away out from underneath her. Tyreen grabbed Troy’s hand, squeezing it as the ship whined and protested and held together despite it all. Part of her wanted to look back over her shoulder. As if to see through the ship’s ancient hull and look for her father’s microscopic form on the receding beach. Instead, she looked at Troy until the light grew too bright, and she had to shut her eyes against it. 

Planets. That was the first thing Tyreen saw when she peeked again. The jump had ended, depositing them in the Archangel solar system. Planets, over a dozen of them, suspended like dangling earrings around a blinding yellow sun. It was Tyreen’s turn to scream, and Troy’s turn to laugh. “You did it, you did it, you actually!--” Tyreen fumbled with her buckle, and got to her feet. She leaned over the console, reaching for the glass. She wanted to touch those planets, feel their colors under her fingers and cradle them in her palms. 

Troy’s buckle clicked open behind her, and she felt his warm chest against her back. His arms circled her waist, and Tyreen smiled as he buried his face in her hair. “Don’t I always keep my promises?” He whispered, and she finally did cry. Troy did too, sobbing softly into her hair as they sank to the floor. Tyreen stayed in his lap, letting him sway her back and forth. It almost felt too easy. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the fantasy to end. But then Troy’s hand found her chin and tipped it up, and their eyes met. God, she loved it when Troy looked at her like that. Tyreen kissed him, heart pounding a mile a minute in her chest. 

They’d always known this was wrong. That they were siblings, and that meant they shouldn’t touch each other like this. “It’s just for now,” Troy would tell her in between kisses. “We’ll stop when we escape,” he’d promise as he undid her belt. “We don’t have any other choice, it’s not our fault,” he’d say, before Tyreen pushed his head between her legs. 

Funnily enough, she didn’t feel like reminding him as they made out against the paneling of the console. Finally, Troy pulled back, gazing at her with half-lidded eyes and parted lips. “Hey,” he murmured, brushing her overgrown bangs off her face. 

Tyreen rested her cheek against his palm. “Hey yourself.” She rested both hands on his chest, feeling the lines of his ribs through the worn fabric of his shirt. “Come on, I wanna pick one out!” 

Troy laughed softly as Tyreen stood and helped him to his feet. “We’ll see them all,” he said. “And a bunch more after them. What’s the rush?” Tyreen ignored him, once against laying her hands over the glass. 

“Is that one pink?!” 

“Hmm?” Troy embraced her again, and returned to nuzzling her hair. “Yeah. That’s Throne.” 

“And that one, closest to the sun?” 

“That’s Seraph.” Troy kissed her temple, and rubbed his hands up and down her hips. Tyreen shivered a little. “And the huge one is Principality, I think. Don’t really know the others off the top of my head. But they’re all inhabited, and they all have refugee programs. We can live just fine on any of them.” 

“Thanks,” Tyreen said, covering his hands with hers. “For picking this place out. And fixing the ship. And...and everything.” 

Troy had been hesitant to use the drive, worried that it was too old, too unstable.  _ “The whole ship could break apart,” _ he told her.  _ “And it's not like he can chase us.” _ But neither of them wanted to spend months trying to find a planet. Nor could they really afford to. They couldn’t bring enough food to survive for that long. When Troy told her the ship could fall to pieces around them, Tyreen had told him to do it. That she’d rather die with him, among the stars, then waste away underground anymore. 

Troy turned her in his arms, and Tyreen looked up at him. There was that look again, soft and warm, turning her insides to goo. It was the look he had the first time she slid a hand between his legs and made him gasp for her. Troy rested his forehead against hers, and said, “I got you something. Can I show you?”

Tyreen laughed, and said, “Really? Another present? You just got me a whole solar system.” 

“The solar system was technically for both of us,” Troy countered, and then stepped back, pulling Tyreen after him. They stopped in the middle of the bridge, and Troy positioned her. “Yeah, wait right here…” He returned to the console, and began tapping away on one of the screens. 

“Is that the holo-communicator?” Tyreen asked. 

“Uh, yeah, I added a new program.” Troy entered the last command, and the holographic projectors flared to life around the edge of the ceiling. 

All around Tyreen, rings of stars and planets shimmering into view, circling her like a ballgown. Tyreen gawked and spun in place, the tiny diamond stars blurring as she did. She was standing inside a perfect replica of the Archangel system, towering among the celestial bodies. “Troy!” Now she really could cup the planets in her hands, could count the stars with the tip of her finger, press her cheek against the sun if she wanted. “This, this is--” The sun was about twenty inches in diameter, and the planets orbiting it were the size of overripe fruit. Tyreen could see the patterns of their clouds, and the sparkle of their seas. 

The other lights on the ship powered down, and Tyreen gasped again. The finer details became clear in the new darkness, bringing Troy’s artistry into focus. He’d even rendered tiny comets, and the individual pieces of debris composing the planetary rings. The comets sailed past her, cutting through the shadows on her limbs, and she could swirl her fingers through their sparkling tails. There were tears beading at the corners of her eyes as she reached to touch Seraph’s glittering silver rings. 

“Hang on, not done yet…” Troy hit something else on the console, and Tyreen’s feet lifted off the floor. He’d turned off the artificial gravity, and now she was drifting, weightless as stardust. She looked over at him, beaming, as Troy pushed off the console. Pulling himself along the wall and ceiling, he reached her and pulled her into his arms. “Come here,” he breathed, kissing her soft and deep. The replicated solar system was the only light, a kaleidoscope of white and blue and yellow across his face. 

Tyreen sank her fingers into his hair, marveling at the glitter in the strands. “It’s beautiful. I love it,” she whispered, wrapping her arms and legs around him.  _ And I love you _ , she thought. He’d never looked more perfect. 

“ _ You’re _ beautiful.” Troy stripped her out of her clothes, slowly, carefully. If she tried to help, he pushed her hands away. “Let me,” he urged. “Let me take care of you.” Once she was naked, he pulled back, and just  _ stared _ . Tyreen didn’t let herself squirm, despite the heat rising in her cheeks. Troy left her drifting among the stars while he shed his own clothes. Slow, so slow, letting her drink in every detail. 

When they were both naked, Troy still didn’t speed up. He took his time. Kissing her anywhere he could reach, stroking her hair and her curves, using his fingertips to tease between her legs until she begged. Finally, he pressed inside, holding her so tight it almost hurt. “You look like a goddess,” he breathed, as if he couldn’t hear her panting like a bitch in heat. “Now let me worship you.” And he still didn’t speed up. His thrusts were tender and agonizingly slow, despite her whines and demands. 

“Faster! Faster, Troy, please, I can’t take it!” She wanted to come, but more than that, she felt exposed and raw and it frightened her. 

Troy shook his head, and caught her mouth in a soft, lingering kiss. “No. Like this.” 

Tyreen was normally on top, or at least calling the shots. But the lack of gravity and the intense look in Troy’s eyes had her off-kilter. She was helpless, or at least felt like it. So, she went limp, didn’t resist, let him fuck the brains right out of her head. God, she didn’t know it could feel this good. That it could feel like she was shaking apart, like her heart was going to stop. Every time she closed her eyes, too overwhelmed, Troy would stop dead, and refuse to move at all until she looked at him again. He’d do the same thing if she bit her lip or covered her mouth, growling, “I wanna fucking hear you.” 

They made love among the stars for hours, and for the first time in her life, Tyreen came with a scream.

Could he really blame her for not wanting to move on? Could he really blame her for getting angry when she realized that, someday soon, he’d be making those gestures for someone else? Tyreen continued staring into her drink, eyes burning as she fought tears. Why the fuck would he do that if he really wanted to stop sleeping together? Unless he was actually the fucking devil, trying to drive her insane, it didn’t make any sense! 

She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffled. She’d come here to get back at Troy. Try to make him jealous like she was right now. But now she just felt sick, and she wanted to go home. Iris had warned her not to come here if she wasn’t ready, but since when did Tyreen listen? Maybe Iris was right. Maybe she should just swallow her pride and talk to her bastard brother. 

Tyreen blew out a sigh and grabbed her pint glass. She finished her drink in a few long swallows, and set back down with a thud. Standing up, she tried to find her wallet. “Hey, what do I owe you?” She asked, finally looking up. 

The barkeep was still nearby, leaning on his side of the counter, watching her. Steely gray eyes under a mane of bleach blonde hair, the roots starting to show black. Tattoos splashed up his neck and along his muscled arms. Flowers and geometric shapes and music notes, eventually disappearing into the cap sleeves of his red and black tank. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, and there was a rasp to his voice that had her stomach flipping again. Different kind of flip though. The guy shrugged, and the half dozen piercings in his ears flashed like tiny stars. “You looked like you needed it.” 

“...Were you staring at me?” Tyreen asked bluntly, and he gave her a half-smile. 

“Yeah. I was. Liked what I see.” 

She snorted. “Oh, bold, that’s your strategy? Just admit you’re creeping?” He was tall, with a sharp jawline and big hands. 

“S not creeping,” he said calmly. “Unless you want me to stop. Do you?”

Those snowy eyes were framed by long, dark lashes, and she saw another piercing peeking out from behind his teeth. “Um. No. I don’t.” Tyreen slowly sat back down. 

“I’m Vic,” he said, making her another drink. “And you?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Want to support me in other ways? Here's my tumblr! https://jaymonsterthecanaryprince.tumblr.com/Links


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